The hills put on their shadow coats; A lone wolf, the night wind cries. The sunset quickens into flame And in one red pulsation dies. I light one lonely candle wick And watch it breathe with little life. The floor is shadows and the walls Cut into slits as with a knife. The wind still gives its wolfish whine, And at my window makes a din. How long would last my wavering light If I should let the mad thing in? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SYNCOPATED CAKEWALK by CLARENCE MAJOR YOUNG BLOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BURIAL OF BOSTON CORBETT (ONE WARDEN TO ANOTHER) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |